


dead boys have nothing more to say

by chifon



Series: dead boys [1]
Category: The Social Network (2010)
Genre: Angst, Canon Era, Christy Lee/Eduardo Saverin - Freeform, Dream Blow Jobs, Eduardo Saverin's Daddy Issues, Eduardo Saverin/OMC, Erica Albright/Mark Zuckerberg - Freeform, Internalized Homophobia, Kissing, M/M, Pre-Canon, Talking about Dying From Taking Drugs or Alcohol, slight abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-08
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-17 20:39:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29231658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chifon/pseuds/chifon
Summary: No one tells you what to do when you fall in love with a boy, your best friend for that matter.
Relationships: Eduardo Saverin/Mark Zuckerberg
Series: dead boys [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2162229
Comments: 8
Kudos: 29





	dead boys have nothing more to say

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by a part of that one siken poem: "you wanted to touch his hands and lips and this means your life is over anyways". 
> 
> thank you to phonecallfromgod for betaing because this fic would be a hot mess without her help. love you lots ❤❤
> 
> enjoy !!

_“Don’t embarrass me”_

Eduardo has become well acquainted with that phrase, ever since he was four years old, when his father slapped him for the first time. He doesn’t even remember what he had done to deserve it, probably just acted his age when he should’ve been acting much older than that. 

Manners, appearances, are everything after all. Enough fake charm and you’ll get into places that you would’ve never gotten into if you just acted like yourself. Keep your head low, but not too low. Be eager, but not too eager. Politeness is the key to everything. Brashness is your downfall. 

His father’s shadow has always loomed over him like that, reminding him to stay in those lines and the consequences of stepping out of them. He has to keep up with that shadow, those expectations, as it grows larger and larger with each year that passes because if he doesn’t, it’ll swallow him whole. So far, he’s succeeded in staying in those good graces: hasn't been banished, but haven’t been praised either. 

Even so, he can’t really afford to make any mistakes. 

_“Don’t embarrass me”_

Then, he meets Mark Zuckerberg and his life is totally and utterly fucked. 

— 

Mark is everything that his father taught him not to be, which is probably why Eduardo is absolutely captivated by him. 

They met at an AEPi party during his freshman year. 

Obviously not one that Mark himself had planned to go to with how out of place he seemed, leaning against the back wall obviously bored with a red cup in his hand, fingers tapping away insistently—coding in his head, Eduardo later learns—against his leg as he drinks. But that awkwardness to him is what attracted Eduardo in the first place. 

Maybe, it was more than that: the sharp jawline contrasting his soft curls, the redness of his lips, the deepness of his eyes. That maybe he was absolutely doomed from the start and it wasn’t the actions he took after that fucked him. 

Nonetheless, this Eduardo didn’t know any of those things. So this Eduardo approaches, slightly tipsy, but aware enough to make conversation.

Weirdly enough, he’s not the one to start it.

“Did you know that 5% of people from ages 15 to 24 die from alcohol poisoning?” Mark says as soon as Eduardo’s back hits the wall. 

“Excuse me”

“But, generally speaking, 76% of men and 68% of white people also die from alcohol poisoning, so we’re still in the majority.”

“It’s not really the alcohol itself that kills, though,” Eduardo chips in. “It’s the accidents that occur because of it” 

“Right. There’s also drugs, not that those immediately cause death, but there's still a good percentage of deaths due to drug overdoses or drug use and I’ve seen some tables covered in white dust, so there’s a very good chance that there’s drugs at this party.”

“So you think there’s a chance somebody is going to die today?” 

“No, it’s more like I don’t know exactly what I’m drinking, but I’m pretty sure it’s not just beer”

Then, Mark takes another sip. 

Eduardo can’t help the laugh that escapes his lips and he doesn’t even know why he’s laughing; perhaps, it’s just the oddity of it all. That he’s never had a like this conversation with someone. Before he can apologize, say anything, he hears a loud, “Mark!” and then someone is barreling into Eduardo. Luckily, the stranger is light enough that the impact itself doesn’t hurt; unluckily, he looks like he’s about to hurl. 

“Fuck,” Mark says, downing the rest of his drink and chucking it onto the floor. 

There’s a moment of clarity in the stranger’s glazed eyes, noticing that the person he’s being held by isn’t actually Mark. In the realization of that, he simply stumbles away from Eduardo’s arms and drops himself into the right place, yelling a giddy “Marky Mark” as he does. Annoyance, disgust maybe, is written all over Mark’s face, but the guy can’t seem to see it because he continues, “my man. Why are you over here? You should be out there, talking to girls, socializing” 

Mark squints incredulously at him and just says, “We’re leaving” 

“Nooo, I don’t wanna” 

“Dustin, if we don’t leave right now, I will hack into your laptop, download your entire porn collection, and use your email to send it to every single girl here. And by the time, you leave this party, you’ll have even less game than you had when you arrived”

Dustin’s smile grows wider: “You think I have game?” 

Mark rolls his eyes at that, taking one of Dustin’s arms and putting it over his shoulder; his other arm wraps around Dustin’s waist to keep him somewhat upright. 

“C’mon, let’s go,” Mark says.

Despite how desperate he was to stay earlier, Dustin is complacent now. Not that it’s making Mark’s job easier as they both struggle to walk out the door, swaying precariously like they're both drunk.

“I’ll help,” Eduardo says, moving to grab Dustin’s other arm and swinging it over his shoulder before he knows it. “Let me help” 

Mark stares at him for a moment and just nods curtly. Then, they’re both making their way out of the door, immediately getting hit by a gust of freezing air. There isn’t any snow luckily, still on that ridge between fall and winter. It’s chilly enough though that white puffs of air spills out of his mouth every time he exhales. 

Their walk is quiet, not in any way that’s uneasy, however. It’s more comfortable honestly; there isn’t any need to desperately fill the silence with meaningless words that lead to nowhere. Maybe if he was less tired and more drunk and not holding up a guy who’s definitely going to puke as soon as he reaches the toilet, Eduardo would be trying more. That’s not to say that he doesn’t have things he wants to ask or say because he does, he definitely does. Because Mark is strange in a way that he hasn’t met before and Eduardo wants to learn more about him, talk to him more. 

“I can take him from here,” Mark says as they pull up to the dorms. Disappointment laces its way inside of Eduardo’s heart as if there’s a part of him that wishes that this walk—where everything seems so simple and easy—would last forever. But he’s not supposed to want something like that because those haunting shadows don’t wait for someone who hopes for forever. 

That’s the only reason why he’s letting go of Dustin. Not that Dustin needs much help standing on his own two feet now, the walk seeming to sober him up a bit to say the least.

“It’s cold. It’s so colddd. Why is it so cold?” Dustin shouts out to the world. Mark looks like he wants to slap him. 

“You’re lucky if I don’t decide to kill you tomorrow,” Mark grumbles, adjusting Dustin in his grip and Mark turns to face the stairs and no, not _yet_.

“Hey,” Eduardo calls out and Mark turns back around. “Um,” Eduardo says, searching through his jacket pockets, finding the business card that he’s always got on him. After all, it’s important to be ready when the right opportunities arise; his father taught him that. “here’s my number” He passes the card over to Mark who quickly releases his grip to grab it. “I’m Eduardo, by the way. Call me?”

Mark takes one look at the card before replying, “Sure” 

Then, he walks Dustin up to the building, not even looking back as the doors open and shut behind him.

— 

Mark texts him three days later: 

_Thanks._

Then, a few minutes later. 

_This is Mark by the way._

Just seven words. 

It feels more important than it actually should.

— 

Eduardo slots himself into Mark’s daily life easily after that. 

Well, after he’s able to figure out what dorm room Mark is in because, as he soon learns, getting information from Mark with only his phone number is a whole other hurdle that he hadn’t anticipated. 

Once he got it though, it didn’t take long for him to input himself into this four person suite friend group. He got to know Dustin better than simply remembering him as the drunk friend. Although, he’s mostly the same as he is drunk, just less touchy and nauseous. Chris is pretty cool as well and he hasn’t really seen Billy all that much. Chris says it’s because Billy’s girlfriend is a junior with an actual apartment. 

Most of his days, however, are spent in Mark’s room, watching him code this grand idea that he’s got in his head.

“I’m building a site where people can see what courses their friends are taking,” Eduardo manages to get out of him in between coding sprints. It’s not that Mark is secretive—he is in no way secretive with how blunt and honest he is about everything—there’s just this disconnect that he has from others because he’s thinking about so many things at once that ordering them comprehensively in order to tell someone is difficult. Mark runs on this different playing field of genius that Eduardo can’t even hope to be on. 

However, by existing in that field, he ignores other things like basic human needs. So Eduardo takes the role to fill in the gaps: reminds Mark to eat and shower, makes sure that he wears a jacket as it gets colder, and forces him to take a break every once in a while. 

For some reason, he enjoys doing it—taking care of Mark, getting closer to Mark. 

He doesn’t really want to find out why.

— 

The day that Eduardo figures out the why is the day that he accidentally crashes on Mark’s bed. Finals month took a hell of a toll on Eduardo; he’s been pulling more all-nighters to prepare for his exams and finish up his final projects, so he ended up nodding off while preparing for the macro final that he’s got tomorrow. 

He wakes up hours later, vision hazy and mind groggy; it takes a few seconds for his sight to adjust, for his mind to catch up with him, but once it does, he sees Mark—on the bed, sleeping right next to him. 

He jolts backward, almost hitting the wall behind him, because shit, fuck, _Mark is sleeping right next to him_. Not even turned away or anything. They’re barely inches apart—not enough space on this twin sized bed for the two of them. Mark’s breathing fills the space between them and he looks so peaceful, relaxed, still. As if he doesn’t have to go anywhere when all Mark does is chase the thing ahead of him. Eduardo realizes he’s never gotten this close of a look at Mark before. Like he’s always noticed the eye bags and the oily, unkempt hair, but he hasn’t really seen how pale Mark really is or how there’s this softness to his sharp features or how there’s little acne scars dusted along his cheek or how long his eyelashes or how his lips are actually have this pinkish tint to them. Pretty, like a girl’s. 

But Mark isn’t a girl in any way, shape, or form. And yet, Eduardo wants to kiss him like he is, like he’s Cathy Shu from the tenth grade with her long, black hair and strawberry chapstick lips and dark, puppy-like eyes and nice tits. He wants to touch him like he did with Cathy: his hand intertwined with hers under the lunch table, his hand caressing her cheek as they kissed under the stairwell, his hand up her skirt as they laid on her pink bed sheets. 

It’s slightly different though, what he feels here, because he doesn’t just want to touch Mark. He wants to _be_ with him, by his side, hang the stars, the sun, the moon, the entire universe for him. Eduardo’s heart’s racing, pounding, and his stomach is erupting with butterflies and the memories of Cathy are being mixed up with the memories of Mark, desire overlapping each other, and Eduardo’s not stupid; he knows what this is. 

But Mark’s not a girl and Eduardo only likes girls. 

He doesn’t know what this means then. 

His fingers are moving anyways, without any sort of permission, lightly grazing against Mark’s cheek with his nails and he’s nudging his own head closer until they’re mere centimeters apart. Eduardo wants nothing more than to close that space, but he can’t. He can’t do this. 

What the fuck is he _doing_? 

He shouldn’t be doing this. He has to leave. He has to go. He can’t be here. He can’t, he can’t, he can’t. And he’s frantically pushing himself up.

Before he can completely get off the bed though, Mark catches his wrist and Eduardo turns back, seeing Mark laying there, drowsiness tinted in his half opened eyes.

“Don’t,” Mark says, whispers. 

“I-I have to go, study,” Eduardo whispers back as if this were all a secret. That whatever just occurred here is something they can’t talk about in the open because if they do, it solidifies the reality of it. Neither of them move for a single moment—could’ve been seconds or minutes, Eduardo couldn’t tell—before Mark lets him go.

Eduardo wonders what he had hoped would happen once he left. That he’d wake up, that this feeling would disappear; that when the doors closed behind him, he’d be able to move on with his life and not be trapped here, trapped by these awakening emotions that will rot him to the core. 

He doesn’t. 

— 

They don’t talk about it; even after winter break has ended.

They’ve emailed a few times over the break with Eduardo making most of the niceties, but nothing really substantial. Though, Eduardo does learn that Mark finished half of CourseMatch over the break to Mark’s own frustration:

From: Mark Z. ([ marzuckerberg@fas.harvard.edu ](mailto:marzuckerberg@fas.harvard.edu)) 

To: Eduardo S. ([ edusaverin@fas.harvard.edu ](mailto:edusaverin@fas.harvard.edu))

Subject: Get me out

My family is expecting me to spend all my time with them as if I haven’t been doing that for the past eighteen years.

From: Eduardo S. ([ edusaverin@fas.harvard.edu ](mailto:edusaverin@fas.harvard.edu))

To: Mark Z. ([ marzuckerberg@fas.harvard.edu ](mailto:marzuckerberg@fas.harvard.edu))

Subject: Don’t say that to your parents

It’s because they missed you.

 _I’ve missed you._ Eduardo wants to type, but he doesn’t, still can’t. There are things that shouldn’t ever be said; this is simply one of them. 

That and the thing that happened during finals week. 

Eduardo doesn’t really think about what happened at that moment—the consequences of it. There was just too much to do over the holidays and when they all came back, it was business as usual; there wasn't even a single drop of tension between them. 

It’s like it never even happened.

So when Mark starts dating Erica, Eduardo pretends that he’s okay with that.

— 

Usually when Eduardo jerks off, he thinks about Cathy. 

Not that he doesn’t watch porn or read dirty magazines, just that most of the time, he isn’t keen on taking the time to prepare. When he’s jacking off, he’s doing it because it’s something that he has to get done, especially since he’s normally doing it late at night after he’s finished all his work. 

It’s not like Cathy and him didn’t break up on unsteady terms anyways. She simply moved half across the world, taking a broken half of his teenage heart with her. He moved on in the end—two years is too long of a time for a high school student to be stuck in the past after all. Yet he can’t forget what he had with her. 

All those first times. Seemingly magical moments. 

When she stuck her hand down his pants as they kissed lazily on her bed with his hands on her waist and chest, squeezing them gently, unsure of everything going on. Then, she’s pushing him down onto the bed and his pants are at his knees and his dick is in her hand, the pastel pink nail polish in stark contrast to the red; she licks up the length before capturing the tip in her lips and swallowing him down and Eduardo gasps at the sensation. She looks up at him, eyes bright and blue, piercing through him and then, she sucks and Eduardo’s vision goes white and he’s grabbing onto her hair, threading his fingers tight into the short curls, and he’s coming: into her mouth, his mouth, his hand. 

He lays there for a bit afterward, coming down from the high, unable to even look at the guilt painted all over his hand.

— 

Three months is a lot longer than one and a quarter; Eduardo soon finds that out halfway through summer break. There isn’t much for him to do as a freshman, no internships or summer courses he has to take. 

He has all the time in the world to sit around, play video games, and think. A lot of his thoughts end up landing onto Mark and Erica. Erica and Mark. Mark. 

Eduardo’s thoughts trail off to Mark often. They haven’t been messaging, which to be fair is mostly on Eduardo’s part because he hasn’t been sending any messages and Mark isn’t as good with keeping on top of friendships unless the person is standing right in front of him. 

Plus, he has a girlfriend now. 

An actual girlfriend who is pretty and nice and understands that Mark isn’t the best conversationalist. She thinks it’s endearing and funny actually; Eduardo learns that when she’s sitting with him on the couch, drinking beer and watching Mark code. Erica is good for him, too good for him, and they’re good together and Eduardo doesn’t know how he truly feels about that. About anything really.

His emotions have become this kind of swirling whirlpool of these feelings that have no names because he doesn’t want to put labels on them. Names give meaning to it and he can’t give meaning to them. So they’re just there to exist, seeping into every single one of his memories, adding these new layers to them that he can’t truly comprehend, can’t bring himself to unwrap. 

When did this all really start? When will it finally end? 

That’s why he decides to put his mind into the weather. He likes the weather; it’s unpredictable, sure, but understanding the patterns of it and how that connects to other industries is much easier than understanding the unpredictability of human emotions. 

He makes three hundred thousand dollars on oil shares over the summer. His father doesn’t celebrate it, never really has celebrated over anything no matter what achievement Eduardo has accomplished, but at the dinner table he says a simple, “You did well, _meu filho_ ”. 

He can’t help the pride that swells within him.

— 

Mark and Erica break up a month into the fall semester. 

Eduardo only finds out through Mark’s blog which he checks basically every night because he’s worried that Mark’s going to say something that’s going to get him kicked out of Harvard. It just so happened that he ended up being right this time. Well, he’s more worried about Mark than what he’s saying on the internet right now because Mark and Erica broke up and he knows what broken hearts feel like and he _has_ to be there for Mark because he’s Mark’s best friend. 

That’s why when Mark says, “I need you”, Eduardo replies, “I’m here for you”. 

That’s why no matter how reluctant he was at first—all the consequences running through his mind in that moment because god, what the fuck are they _doing_ —he gives up the algorithm. 

FaceMash goes live and Mark literally breaks the internet and that’s when Eduardo realizes what he saw in Mark when they had first met: freedom. 

— 

There’s a letter underneath his door when he gets back from his classes one day; the paper is smooth and slick with his name written right in the middle in a neat cursive, no address. He turns it over to see the red seal of a Phoenix on it. 

The first person he calls is his father. 

— 

The idea for thefacebook came out of nowhere. 

He was at the AEPi party, drinking a few more drinks than he’s used to as a treat for getting into the Phoenix. Then, he notices Mark waving him down from across the room and before he knows it, he’s outside in the freezing cold. Mark is rambling on and on about a social networking site that will revolutionize how college students interact with each other. And it’s good. It’s really good. 

Eduardo doesn’t know if he’s said that out loud or even if he really means it with the buzz in his head. But he can see how vibrant Mark looks, even more than he did talking about CourseMatch, and Eduardo just knows that this is it; this is Mark’s genius at its peak.

Mark wants Eduardo’s help and Eduardo gladly agrees; for once, it feels like everything is going his way.

“It probably was a diversity thing but so what?” Mark says before Eduardo’s about to go through the doors back to the party and Eduardo shakes his head at that, brushing it off as a stupid thing that Mark’s says, but then Mark adds, “Wait” and Eduardo stops to actually look up at him this time, capturing the way that Mark looks under the yellow lighting with his hands in his pockets, staring down at the ground. “we should go back to the dorm. Hash out the details and such.” 

He wants to and it seems like rather a good choice, but then Eduardo remembers what awaits him there: an empty room with just the two of them. And Eduardo’s already more than tipsy on red solo cup alcohol and he doesn’t know what he’ll do, what atrocities he might commit, if they’re alone together. 

“I can’t,” Eduardo says. “Can we do it tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” Mark replies, shrugs it off like it doesn’t mean anything when it does, it should. “Sure.”

Eduardo ignores bitterness in his mouth as he heads back inside. 

— 

He doesn’t see what thefacebook has become until a week later. Eduardo’s been trying to be there as much as can, but with his studies and the Phoenix Club trials, his appearances in the Kirkland dorm room drop drastically. He’s barely able to deliver food to Mark before he has to leave again.

They arrange a time, though, to check up on the whole operation and Mark is running late. Eduardo can’t really stay mad at that when Mark comes rushing up the stairs with eye bags darker than ever and wearing shorts that Eduardo’s pretty sure Mark’s had on for the past week now. He doesn’t even want to think about the fact that it’s _snowing_ outside.

All those get pretty much forgotten when he sees the website because it’s good, it really is good. 

And there’s his name on the masthead. 

“You have no idea what that’s going to mean to my father,” Eduardo says, not really meaning to say any of it because there’s so many other things that he wanted to say first. That he can’t believe that Mark’s got this done in a week, that he thinks that Mark is an absolute genius, that he wants to stay by Mark’s side forever and watch as this site that they’ve built together flourishes. 

“Sure, I do,” Mark states so simply. 

The site goes live soon after and it’s such a minute experience, yet for some reason it feels like more than that. 

Before Eduardo can get any word out about drinks that they should be having, Mark stands to his feet suddenly and turns towards him. In an instant, Mark’s hands are twisted in Eduardo’s jacket and Mark’s straddling Eduardo’s lap and Mark’s lips are on his and Eduardo doesn’t know what’s going on, but he doesn’t want this to end. 

The kiss is searing, demanding, wanting like it’s trying to steal something from him. It’s overwhelming, intensifying the feelings already there and creating these new emotions without names within him. There’s fireworks in his stomach now, bursting in an array of color that flash before his eyes.

Then, Mark’s falling into him and the force knocks Eduardo down onto the bed. Mark’s head tucks itself against Eduardo’s shoulder as if it belongs there because it does. And Mark’s gotten the rest of his body curled so tightly against Eduardo’s like he’s trying to do everything he can in his fading consciousness to keep Eduardo here. Like he’s trying to tell Eduardo that it’s okay to be here. Mark’s barely able to mumble out a “Wardo” before he’s out.

Eduardo’s frozen there for a second, replaying every single moment that just occurred in his mind, trying to figure out what this means for the both of them and it only leads to that one answer: he can’t. 

Because this isn’t part of the plan. 

Because in the end, his life is supposed to lead down this road where he’s going to get a decent job and a lovely wife and 2.5 children that his parents can love. He can’t disappoint his father, abandon the expectations enforced onto him, because at the very core, he’s what his father taught him and if he abandons that, what would he be? What is the point of his own existence? 

Gently, he untangles Mark from himself, lays Mark down onto the bed, and tucks him under the covers. He plants a kiss on his forehead as an apology, as a goodbye of sorts. 

Taking one final look, noticing how fragile Mark seems in this moment, he leaves.

— 

Thefacebook takes off. 

They get groupies and cease & desist letters and enough users that Eduardo knows they’re going to need advertisements to keep up with it. 

Mark disagrees. 

It’s their first real fight and Eduardo knows that this was just a long time coming. That underneath it all is the rising tension of what they’re doing with these fucked up feelings that they have. The whole thing diffuses quickly though with Eduardo relenting to Mark’s wishes because that’s just how they work. 

The blowjobs help in that regard, but Eduardo hearing Mark’s moans through the thin bathroom stall walls and having to cover his mouth in order to not accidentally say Mark’s name as he’s driven over the edge created new unsolvable problems. 

After that, Mark throws himself into his work more, creating new positions, adding new ideas, and Eduardo starts dating Christy because she’s hot and nice and not _Mark_. And everything seems to be going okay. 

Then, Sean Parker happens and Mark becomes absolutely entranced with the idea of going to Palo Alto and Eduardo does what he usually does: he relents.

— 

Maybe, it was petty. 

Withdrawing money from the account because Mark wouldn’t pay attention to him, too caught up in this site, in Sean. Mark’s pleas of just “I want-I want—I need you out here” not being enough to placate him anymore; he can’t just turn a blind eye to what’s happening. Mark was slipping away from him, moving on, and in the darkest part of his mind, Eduardo thought that Mark shouldn’t be able to. Because it’s unfair that Mark can let go of this _thing_ between them while Eduardo’s still trying to figure out how to stop it from making his entire being ache. He can’t bear to lose Mark; he can’t bear to be with Mark either. 

Maybe, it was just inevitable.

That the car crash known as Mark and Eduardo were supposed to be just that. That they were never meant to run along this path side by side, they were only meant to collide head on like this. Burn in the wreckage of their own demise that started at that party, that stupid party. 

Even if it may be inevitable, it doesn’t mean it was expected. 

Who honestly expects their own death? 

Eduardo doesn’t even truly know what he felt during the ambush. All he knows is that he’s smashing Mark’s laptop and shouting in anger and betrayal as wet, hot tears start to form at the corners of his eyes because how could Mark do this to him? How could Mark throw him away like this?

_“Don’t embarrass me”_

How could Mark abandon him, abandon all those things so easily that Eduardo’s been trying to rid himself of for years without losing everything?

_“Don’t embarrass me”_

And as he leaves, Eduardo can see his life end right before his eyes.

— 

The deposition wasn’t what he thought it would be. 

He did it mostly because he wanted to see Mark for one last time, prolong their ending, his ending. But he didn’t realize that he’d have to live through every single one of their memories that will lead to his inescapable death all over again and halfway through it, he’s over it. 

“I was your only friend. You had one friend,” Eduardo says; it’s what he had meant to say during that outburst back in those offices. There’s still more, but this was the most important. “My father won’t even look at me” he adds in too because then it becomes real and that’s how he knows that he must be dead already.

—

After the deposition finishes, Eduardo hides out in the bathroom. 

He doesn’t want to admit to that because this day has been painful enough already and he should be glad that he’s able to leave now, but there’s a part of him that doesn’t actually want this to end. 

Eduardo’s rinsing his face for the second time when the door swings open. He’s got the paper towels in his hands because god, he’s a mess right now and he can’t let anyone see him like this. 

Then, he looks up and sees that it’s Mark.

They’re at a stand still for a moment, just staring at each other blankly, not knowing what to say. He looks good, Mark, in the button up shirt and tie and the zip up jacket because in no way would Mark actually wear a suit. There aren’t any eye bags anymore, but his eyes are still so blue and his lips are still pinkish red and his sharp features still haven’t lost their baby fat. He is still pretty, attractive, and Eduardo’s entire world. 

Mark makes the first move, going into one of the stalls, ignoring the fact that Eduardo’s here with him as if it doesn’t even matter. Like none of it matters: the betrayal, the lies, this thing pounding through the both of them. All of it. 

It’s only when Mark’s washing his hands that Eduardo is able to find the words, the question that he’s been wanting to ask for the longest time. 

“Why did you do it?” Eduardo asks. It’s been asked before, it’s been answered before, but not really in the way that encompasses everything lying underneath the surface—a plane that only Mark and Eduardo can know of and exist in. 

Mark doesn’t reply; instead, he wipes his hand and takes a couple steps towards Eduardo, sneakers clapping loudly against the tile floors. He grabs Eduardo’s suit jacket by the fistfuls and leans up to kiss him. It’s light and chaste and barely anything at all. 

Eduardo doesn’t even register that Mark’s moved away until Mark’s face comes back into clear view. Mark’s eyes are meeting his, piercing through him like he can see through every single wall that Eduardo’s put up to hide behind because he can’t let anyone know how foundationally broken he is.

“You were never going to choose me,” Mark says and Eduardo gets it because he knows that too—that in the end, if it came down to his family or Mark, to his foretold destiny or Mark, he wouldn’t be able to truly choose Mark—and it’s the most frustrated he’s ever felt in his life. 

Mark turns around and heads to the door, heading to the grand unknown that Eduardo can’t even hope to follow him to. He stops right in front of it to look back.

There’s a small smile on his face, but it’s too dark and sad to be any kind of pleasant and he whispers into the silent room: “Bye, Wardo”

Then, he’s gone, taking the last piece that kept Eduardo alive with him.

**Author's Note:**

> im on the bird app: @matchibuns


End file.
